man was Blue。 Jean needed only one flashing look at Blue's face； at his
leveled； quivering guns； to understand why he had chosen this trick。
〃Who're…you？〃 demanded Jorth； in husky pants。
〃Reckon I'm Isbel's right…hand man；〃 came the biting reply。
〃Once tolerable well known in Texas。 。 。 。 KING FISHER！〃
The name must have been a guarantee of death。 Jorth recognized this
outlaw and realized his own fate。 In the lamplight his face turned
a pale greenish white。 His outstretched hand began to quiver down。
Blue's left gun seemed to leap up and flash red and explode。 Several
heavy reports merged almost as one。 Jorth's arm jerked limply； flinging
his gun。 And his body sagged in the middle。 His hands fluttered like
crippled wings and found their way to his abdomen。 His death…pale face
never changed its set look nor position toward Blue。 But his gasping
utterance was one of horrible mortal fury and terror。 Then he began
to sway； still with that strange； rigid set of his face toward his
slayer； until he fell。
His fall broke the spell。 Even Blue； like the gunman he was； had paused
to watch Jorth in his last mortal action。 Jorth's followers began to
draw and shoot。 Jean saw Blue's return fire bring down a huge man；
who fell across Jorth's body。 Then Jean； quick as the thought that
actuated him； raised his rifle and shot at the big lamp。 It burst in
a flare。 It crashed to the floor。 Darkness followeda blank； thick；
enveloping mantle。 Then red flashes of guns emphasized the blackness。
Inside the store there broke loose a pandemonium of shots； yells； curses；
and thudding boots。 Jean shoved his rifle barrel inside the door and；
holding it low down； he moved it to and fro while he worked lever and
trigger until the magazine was empty。 Then； drawing his six…shooter；
he emptied that。 A roar of rifles from the front of the store told
Jean that his comrades had entered the fray。 Bullets zipped through
the door he had broken。 Jean ran swiftly round the corner； taking care
to sheer off a little to the left； and when he got clear of the building
he saw a line of flashes in the middle of the road。 Blaisdell and the
others were firing into the door of the store。 With nimble fingers
Jean reloaded his rifle。 Then swiftly he ran across the road and down
to get behind his comrades。 Their shooting had slackened。 Jean saw
dark forms coming his way。
〃Hello； Blaisdell！〃 he called； warningly。
〃That y'u； Jean？〃 returned the rancher； looming up。 〃Wal； we wasn't
worried aboot y'u。〃
〃Blue？〃 queried Jean； sharply。
A little； dark figure shuffled past Jean。 〃Howdy； Jean！〃 said Blue；
dryly。 〃Y'u shore did your part。 Reckon I'll need to be tied up；
but I ain't hurt much。〃
〃Colmor's hit；〃 called the voice of Gordon； a few yards distant。
〃Help me； somebody！〃
Jean ran to help Gordon uphold the swaying Colmor。 〃Are you hurt…bad？〃
asked Jean； anxiously。 The young man's head rolled and hung。 He was
breathing hard and did not reply。 They had almost to carry him。
〃Come on； men！〃 called Blaisdell； turning back toward the others who
were still firing。 〃We'll let well enough alone。 。 。 。 Fredericks；
y'u an' Bill help me find the body of the old man。 It's heah somewhere。〃
Farther on down the road the searchers stumbled over Gaston Isbel。
They picked him up and followed Jean and Gordon； who were supporting
the wounded Colmor。 Jean looked back to see Blue dragging himself
along in the rear。 It was too dark to see distinctly； nevertheless；
Jean got the impression that Blue was more severely wounded than he
had claimed to be。 The distance to Meeker's cabin was not far； but
it took what Jean felt to be a long and anxious time to get there。
Colmor apparently rallied somewhat。 When this procession entered
Meeker's yard； Blue was lagging behind。
〃Blue； how air y'u？ 〃 called Blaisdell； with concern。
〃Wal； I gotmy bootsonanyhow；〃 replied Blue； huskily。
He lurched into the yard and slid down on the grass and stretched out。
〃Man！ Y'u're hurt bad！〃 exclaimed Blaisdell。 The others halted in
their slow march and； as if by tacit； unspoken word； lowered the body
of Isbel to the ground。 Then Blaisdell knelt beside Blue。 Jean left
Colmor to Gordon and hurried to peer down into Blue's dim face。
〃No； I ain'thurt；〃 said Blue； in a much weaker voice。 I'mjest
killed！ 。 。 。 It was Queen！ 。 。 。 Y'u all heerd meQueen wasonly
bad man in that lot。 I knowed it。 。 。 。 I couldhev killed him。 。 。 。
But I wasafter Lee Jorth an' his brothers。 。 。 。〃
Blue's voice failed there。
〃Wal！〃 ejaculated Blaisdell。
〃Shore was funnyJorth's facewhen I saidKing Fisher；〃 whispered
Blue。 〃Funnierwhen I boredhim through。 。 。 。 But itwasQueen〃
His whisper died away。
〃Blue！〃 called Blaisdell； sharply。 Receiving no answer； he bent lower
in the starlight and placed a hand upon the man's breast。
〃Wal； he's gone。 。 。 。 I wonder if he really was the old Texas King
Fisher。 No one would ever believe it。 。 。 。 But if he killed the Jorths；
I'll shore believe him。
CHAPTER X
Two weeks of lonely solitude in the forest had worked incalculable
change in Ellen Jorth。
Late in June her father and her two uncles had packed and ridden off
with Daggs； Colter； and six other men； all heavily armed； some somber
with drink； others hard and grim with a foretaste of fight。 Ellen had
not been given any orders。 Her father had forgotten to bid her good…by
or had avoided it。 Their dark mission was stamped on their faces。
They had gone and； keen as had been Ellen's pang； nevertheless； their
departure was a relief。 She had heard them bluster and brag so often
that she had her doubts of any great Jorth…Isbel war。 Barking dogs did
not bite。 Somebody； perhaps on each side； would be badly wounded；
possibly killed； and then the feud would go on as before； mostly talk。
Many of her former impressions had faded。 Development had been so
rapid and continuous in her that she could look back to a day…by…day
transformation。 At night she had hated the sight of herself and when
the dawn came she would rise； singing。
Jorth had left Ellen at home with the Mexican woman and Antonio。
Ellen saw them only at meal times； and often not then； for she
frequently visited old John Sprague or came home late to do her
own cooking。
It was but a short distance up to Sprague's cabin； and since she had
stopped riding the black horse； Spades； she walked。 Spades was
accustomed to having grain； and in the mornings he would come down
to the ranch and whistle。 Ellen had vowed she would never feed the
horse and bade Antonio do it。 But one morning Antonio was absent。
She fed Spades herself。 When she laid a hand on him and when he rubbed
his nose against her shoulder she was not quite so sure she hated him。
〃Why should I？〃 she queried。 〃A horse cain't help it if he belongs
toto〃 Ellen was not sure of anything except that more and more
it grew good to be alone。
A whole day in the lonely forest passed swiftly； yet it left a feeling
of long time。 She lived by her thoughts。 Always the morning was bright；
sunny； sweet and fragrant and colorful； and her mood was pensive； wistful；
dreamy。 And always； just as surely as the hours passed； thought intruded
upon her happiness； and thought brought memory； and memory brought shame；
and shame brought fight。 Sunset after sunset she had dragged herself
back to the ranch； sullen and sick and beaten。 Yet she never ceased
to struggle。
The July storms came； and the forest floor that had been so sear and
brown and dry and dusty changed as if by magic。 The green grass shot
up； the flowers bloomed； and along the canyon beds of lacy ferns swayed
in the wind and bent their graceful tips over the amber…colored water。
Ellen haunted these cool dells； these pine…shaded； mossy…rocked ravines
where the brooks tinkled and the deer came down to drink。 She wandered
alone。 But there grew to be company in the aspens and the music of the
little waterfalls。 If she could have lived in that solitude always；
never returning to the ranch home that reminded her of her name； she
could have forgotten and have been happy。
She loved the storms。 It was a dry country and she had learned through
years to welcome the creamy clouds that rolled from the southwest。 They
came sailing and clustering and darkening at last to form a great； purple；
angry mass that appeared to lodge against the mountain rim and burst into
dazzling streaks of lightning and gray palls of rain。 Lightning seldom
struck near the ranch； but up on the Rim there was never a storm that
did not splinter and crash some of the noble pines。 During the storm
season sheep herders and woodsmen generally did not camp under the pines。
Fear of lightning was inborn in the natives； but for Ellen the dazzling
white streaks or the tremendous splitting； crackling shock； or the
thunderous boom and rumble along the battlements of the Rim had no
terrors。 A storm eased her breast。 Deep in her heart was a hidden
gathering storm。 And somehow； to be out when the elements were warring；
when the earth trembled and the heavens seemed to burst asunder；
afforded her strange relief。
The